


A Devil's Destiny

by softmaknae



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angels, Blood and Injury, Demons, Devils, F/M, Friendship, Magic, Male Friendship, Running Away, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softmaknae/pseuds/softmaknae
Summary: A boy one day experiences the inevitable: He lost control and murdered a man he didn't even know. He didn't know what happened or why it did, but he transformed into something against his will, and turned against his own kind.To ensure it didn't happen again, he disappeared. Fleed from his home country and traveled across the world to live in complete solidarity. In a small apartment where no one knows he actually lives; off the radar. Away from the people desperately trying to find him.Or so he thought.{SLOW UPDATES}
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a different kind of story than I'm used to! This is truly a passion project, so during the time of the virus and online college, there won't be that many updates that often! I apologize in advance, but I really hope I'm able to upload good chapters that are able to satisfy you. 
> 
> I'm also on twitter! I'm usually active. @lvebxmb !! You can dm me if you have any questions or just want to chat, I don't mind.
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy!!

_Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty. Sixty one. Sixty two._

The boy was slowly counting his change at the register, handing the annoyed cashier the bills he owed. He cradled the change in his free hand, muttering the numbers as he added coin after coin until he reached the right amount.

He blinked once. Then twice. Re-counting again in his overactive mind before dropping the change into the cashier’s ever desperate hand.

“Thank you for your purchase, sir. Come again,” The girl said, with a twinge of frustration lacing her words.

The boy grabbed his groceries, and with a slight nod of thanks to the girl, he headed out the sliding doors.

The plastic became as tight as a tourniquet around the boy’s arms as he walked in the rain, but that was the least of his worries.

It had been months since he moved from his home country. The thought of moving was once foreign to him, but now it was too familiar.

He was moving to avoid them catching him.

Who was the “them” he was running from? He wasn’t that sure. All he knew was that they were in fact, real, and that they wanted something from him. They desired information from him; information that he was trying desperately to hide from the rest of the world.

So he continued his trek down three blocks, a left turn and then a right to get to his sorrowful apartment he called home. It was out in what they called a “ghetto” here, where there was no shortage of gang violence and crime. Of course he felt uncomfortable in the area, but unfortunately with his school savings, this was all he could afford.

He dropped out of school. He dropped out of his family’s life. His friends... no one knew where he went. And he preferred to keep it that way. Since he paid in cash for the apartment, he wasn’t going to be tracked. Not as easy as it would be for them to find him if he had used that lousy piece of plastic.

He marched up the steps to his apartment, ignoring the gunfire going off in the distance. The boy could hear the drops of water dripping from his hoodie as he dug around in an attempt to find his keys. Alas, he couldn’t find it.

He cursed under his breath, supposing the brat from two streets down took it when he bumped into him earlier. Lucky for him, the number wasn’t etched into the metal key, so it couldn’t be traced back to his lowly place.

Very carefully the man hopped down his steps, groceries held tight in his hands as he snuck into the alley beside the building. It was narrow and musty, covered in tuffs of feral cat hair and greasy trashcans. He felt his shoes adhere to the ground as he squeezed through the gap in between two overflowing dumpsters, reaching the metal fire escape. Gingerly, he set his groceries down onto the filthy ground, snatching a broken mop handle and whacking the ladder until it began to loosen. It squealed loudly on it’s rusty joints, the shrill noise probably reaching down to the gas station a few blocks away.

Quickly, he grabbed his bags, wrapping them around one arm as he held on with the other. Climbing a ladder with one arm was a bit of a hassle, but it wasn’t impossible.

Due to the feeling that he’d be in trouble for leaving the fire escape open all night long (because it gives burglars a good chance to steal shit from the neighbors), he used the crank to bring the ladder back up into place.

After securing the ladder, he grabbed the plastic goody bags he had bought and scaled the flights of stairs with ease, only hesitating at the 10th floor.

His senses were overwhelmed by the scent of rain and the noise of sirens in the distance. Shivering slightly, he finally made his was to his apartment stationed on the 14th floor, sighing heavily as he placed his items down on the metal grates to claw the window open.

The man never locked it. Since his escape, he never kept anything extremely valuable where he stayed, so he could care less if someone decided to visit while he was out. In fact, that was the least of his worries.

Really, anyone could take whatever they wanted from him, as long as they left him alone.

Slowly, he crawled into his minuscule bedroom through the window, water splashing the floor at a rapid pace due to how soaked he was. Then, he reached for his groceries before shutting himself inside his dark confinement of a living space.

The place was tidy and clean, as he hated to leave messes present in such a tightly packed room. His bed was made, two stray pillows laying on top of the old goodwill comforter.

He began to feel cold once he moved under the sweet air conditioning unit, so he quickly swapped out his black hoodie and jeans to a loose fitting band t-shirt he got at the thrift shop and some sweatpants. A wave of relief washed over him as he brought his wet groceries into his tiny kitchen, putting them in their individual spots. Beer in the fridge. Bananas outside next to the fridge in the corner. Bread? He’d eat that soon. Peanut butter?

He bought a tiny jar of Jif for his travel duffel, and set it aside for him to add it to that later.

The rest of his groceries one by one ended up in cabinets, the freezer, and in the drawers. Once he finished, he grabbed leftover rice he made in his old rice cooker he nabbed at a garage sale and ate alone in his melancholy abode.

An hour passed and he was stuck staring at his empty plate, losing himself to his thoughts once more. Everyday he lived like the day was going to be last, due to the crimes he had committed back home. No ordinary soul knew to trace it back to him... but people knew.

And the people who knew were most likely immortal.

He couldn’t run forever; he knew that for a fact. But, the least he could do is try.

———

It was already 4am by the time the boy slithered into his bed, groaning softly after finally feeling the aches and pains he had been numb to all day. He was a student who was not very active; he was not used to this kind of exercise.

His knee popped as he stretched his arms above his pillow, his knuckles loudly colliding with the wall almost instantly. Under his breath he cursed, hoping no one would put the pieces together.

According to the neighbors he had on the floor, the man didn’t actually exist. Many were convinced it was a ghost because they’ve never laid eyes upon him... and he wanted to keep it that way.

Rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes, he decided to try to grab an hour of sleep before he’d have to abandon the apartment again.

Quietly to himself, he hummed the tune of a familiar song to himself, shifting onto his side so his eyes face the window. A long time ago, he had been rocked to sleep to the little lullaby, and to this day it still has somewhat of the same effect on the young boy.

He thought about his mother. Oddly enough, his father was never in his life, and his mother didn’t know anything about the man. She was a very strong woman. Being a single mother in his culture wasn’t super common, but it happened. Despite all odds, she was able to raise one hell of a son...

Slowly, he began to drift away, the lullaby fading from his lips as his eyes became too heavy to fight anymore.


	2. 2

South of the equator lied a sea town named Santa Cruz. Horses, cows and goats roamed free within the confines of acres of dry land, and trees were flourishing despite the sizzling heat. Fruits hung low on their branches, delighting locals with their delicacies and nutrition.

Two men stalked the rows of mango in their display cases in the mercado, picking up one after another to test how ripe they are.

One of the two was native to the country, a man named Nico. He grew up in the grasslands right outside the town, on the road leading to where the duo worked.

The other was a foreigner; a Korean who was born in the depths of San José, Costa Rica. The tale he tells was always that his parents were fairly well off, and his father was a doctor in the number one hospital in the country. But, they left their son behind when he was 18 to fend for himself. Now, he was on the coast serving guests at a resort under the name Santo.

One by one, both of them tossed the mangos ready to be eaten into the large crate for their supply.

“Santo, you alright? You seem quiet today.” Nico asked, coming up behind him and clapping a large hand on his shoulder.

Santo glanced at Nico, giving him a small reassuring smile. “Of course. I’m just thinking about a few things.” He said, giving Nico a pat on the back. “Nothing to worry about.”

In reality, he sensed an inhuman being heading their way. And he wasn’t sure what to think of it. The stronger it got, the worse it made him feel.

It’s been years since the last of his kind visited him. He wondered what it was about.

They kept gathering mangos and other fruit for about another hour before hopping on the truck and driving back to the resort.

It was a bumpy drive from Tamarindo to the Marriott Resort. The driver the entire ride was steering clear of potholes to only fall victim to others, hurtling down the road to make it by sunrise.

Nico and Santo were produce managers for the restaurants that were peppered around the resort that ranged from Italian and Asian cuisines. Usually they offered fruit juices that came from their daily run into town, therefore it was dire for them to gather them.

After sunrise, Santo and Nico parted ways; they both were in the kitchen of other restaurants for the month. While Santo worked in Tamarine, Nico worked down below near the pool grill.

They help prepare for the upcoming rush of both tourists looking for a getaway or locals looking to relax for a while. Santo deals with breakfast and dinner, so he quickly carries around clean silverware ready to assigned to tables.

Something about waiting tables was fun to him, and many people thought he was insane. But not only was it appealing, he also met people from all over the world. Whether good or bad.

“Santo! We open doors in three minutes! Are tables ready to go?”

Sweat decorated his forehead as he steadily organized tables. Napkin, then from left to right, fork-knife-spoon. Sugar packets? Birds will steal them. Little jam jars refilled and delicious? Yes. Coffee cups prepared for the café con leche? Perfect.

Santo swept over the tables once more before confirming that they were ready to open. His eyes flickered with excitement. He could barely stay still as one of the hostess lead a family to his table.

Ah yes. The moment he always waits for.

Customers.

~~~~

Breakfast spans from 6 to 11 every morning, and as much as Santo liked it, it was still exhausting. After today, he asked for several days off to travel out of the resort to handle some business. He only does this every once in a while, but he needed it. This was hard work regardless of if they were human or not.

Right as the clock reached 6pm, Santo was wandering around the entrance of the resort, serving guests who may have questions or requests. The job he signed up for was purely to be behind the scenes in the restaurant, but he enjoyed interacting with others.

Often times they have shuttles coming in at high season dropping off new residents for the week. They come from the nearby airport so it doesn’t require them to rent a car and the process is easy.

Something felt off about this one.

It was your standard Costa Rican knock off van, plastered with the classic yellow ‘turismo’ sticker on the back.

He sensed something wrong. Whoever was there was not someone friendly. It wasn’t his own kind.

He eyed the van carefully, fiddling with his pen on the podium as it rolled to a stop underneath the dimming sunlight.

“Aye, Santo. I’ve only got one here, he missed the last shuttle and the last flight isn’t coming in until 9. Figured I could bring him.” The driver said, tossing a large smile Santo’s way.

“Yeah, that’s no problem.” Santo said, giving him an unsure smile. He could see it in the driver’s eyes that he was magically persuaded to do this; he didn’t do it willingly. The little glittering aura in his brown iris... it’s hard to spot, but Santo was experienced with these kinds of spells.

He stared for a moment at the smiley driver as he happily unpacked the single, tiny suitcase that was thrown into the back, the wheels colliding with the stone with a large clack sound.

Suddenly, the single passenger emerged. It was a tall, black haired fellow, with a sharp expression and a nice button up shirt. The amount of mana pouring out of him was almost overwhelming... he didn’t recognize it. And for something to be foreign to someone as old as him...

Santo’s stomach dropped.

The man strode up to the desk, a small smile creeping up on his face. In the best spanish the man could muster, his eyes transformed from the normal brown to a gold rimmed with red. “Buenas tardes.”

Santo reluctantly gave the fellow a grin, but he knew he wouldn’t have to direct him to the front office. He didn’t give his usual spiel, instead, he glared at him, waiting for him to make the first move.

Sadly, people have come to try to kill him before, so he wasn’t going to take that chance. He was prepared for anything, despite being in his last clean uniform.

“Greetings. I’m hoping to find someone. Can you help me?” The man asked in korean, throwing Santo off. Of course he knew korean; he had visited the country often enough to be fluent in the language.

“Who’s asking?”

They were alone now. The driver who was under the man’s spell returned to his van, desperately trying to drive off before the next flow of tourists. No other bell boys were around, as they were already escorting new residents to their rooms.

The man laughed dryly. “Relax. I’m not here to hurt anyone. My name’s Mars, but most people just refer to me as Seonghwa.”

Santo hadn’t heard that name before. He was sure his eyes read his current emotion, as they did around others that weren’t human.

Seonghwa stuffed his hands in his pant pockets, smirking. “I was expecting something different, I guess. Anyway, I have a job for you.”

Santo stepped down to bring Seonghwa’s suitcase along, just so none of his supervisors would be suspicious of his actions with a customer. “We can’t speak here. Come with me.”

Santo lead Seonghwa to the chapel just outside entrance, where their cooking classes were usually held along with private events. Since it was the middle of the day and no classes were being held, they would definitely be okay here.

Plus, no cameras.

He opened the door for his new guest, gesturing for him to go inside first. Though the stranger seemed hesitant, he stepped inside and responded with a mellow bow.

Santo closed the oak door behind them, distancing himself from the man and the windows before clearing his throat. “Who sent you?” His resort worker charade no longer existed. Instead, Santo’s face turned into a stone expression, and his hard glare mimicked Seonghwa’s.

“Ah, no one sent me. I sent myself.”

Santo frowned. “Etho didn’t send you?”

“Etho? God, no. That lunatic doesn’t do any business with me.” Seonghwa said, chuckling. “I assure you, we both have the same goals in mind, here.”

“Same goals?”

“Considering you did not want to be found here, I’m sure my thoughts were correct. You’re part of the rebellion.”

Santo bit his lip. The Rebellion was a group of demons who did not want to harass humans anymore. They were demons with a heart; they didn’t care for making people suffer. Instead, they wanted to live beside them peacefully, because in reality, they were quite similar.

Though in recent times, The Rebellion leaders decided to disperse across the world, escaping the hostile demons that did not agree with them. Demons can transform into whatever human that is deceased as much as they please, so they could stay in disguise for another millennia if they wanted to.

How did he find that out? The members of the rebellion were only identified by their given names at the time of their birth. All of them have changed them and morphed into a different appearance since then.

Apparently, the silence of Santo gave Seonghwa the answer he needed.

He smirked. “It’s ironic that a demon like you is hidden under a name that means ‘holy’, San.”

“How did you find me? I even changed how my aura appears to others. There’s no possible way any normal demon could figure that out.”

“Perhaps I am not normal. Regardless, I’m only here to spread information. It is not necessarily a job, but rather something that you might want to stop before it causes more mayhem.” Seonghwa began, crossing his arms and sitting on one of the glass tables that was set up in a fancy style. “There is a new Nex traveling the world. But this one in particular is unlike any other any Efferus has dealt with. That is why I sought to seek out one of the last Archaics.”

San’s frown quickly turned into a look of concern. Nex were newly formed/ transformed demons who did not yet know how to control their powers. Normally, Efferus— middle class demons— are strong enough to bring a Nex to their senses and basically take them in as a pupil. San was intrigued by the details, but he knew what this meant. “And you want me to approach it?”

“Precisely. I would approach him myself, but I do not have the knowledge built up yet to deal with Nex. Especially this one. I need a demon who has been around for eternity... one like yourself.” Seonghwa said, tapping his long finger on his arm.

It was San’s turn to cross his arms. “And you expect me to drop everything and come to the rescue? Nex should be handled by Efferus, not someone like myself.”

“I am aware of the hierarchy and how it works, San-“

“Also, as far as my name, you call me Anx. San is only a name for my colleagues.” San interjected, his eyes flaring to a crimson red before turning to their natural brown.

“Anx, you must help. This is a dire situation. No Efferus wants to help a half demon.” Seonghwa insisted.

San raised an eyebrow. “Half demon? As in... half demon, half human?”

“Correct.”

In his entire life, there had only been a few cases like this. If he could recall correctly, the total was about five.

They all ended in disaster.

They are not meant to exist. The human psyche cannot handle the traits and mindset of a demon...

But out of all the Archaics, San was sure he was the only one who wanted to help the Nex harness the power the right way.

After all, this is what The Rebellion existed for.

“He’s on the run.” Seonghwa explained. “I would not like to see another Half-Nex go to waste like the rest. You have been able to deal with the trickiest Nexes and turn them into stable Efferus, so I had to confide in you with this.”

“Where are they currently residing?”

“Chicago. I have a friend of mine keeping a close eye on him.” The man replied, carefully moving his jet black hair out of his face. “We have had to fight off many other demons from getting to him. It is only getting worse, since demons crave to be full of mischief.”

“How did they find out he existed?”

“I am not certain. Perhaps Etho or Corbis have something to do with this.”

Etho and Corbis were Nobles who’s word spread through the entirety of the demon world. They were practically worshipped due to their place among the greats. They loved going against the treaty they had created with the angels, and tormenting innocent humans.

San was older than even the oldest nobles, yet due to his rank within The Rebellion, he was cast out. And it’s been centuries since that time.

“That is most likely the case.” San grit his teeth out of slight frustration, knowing that if he didn’t go now, the Nex would probably perish the next night. “Fine, I will go with you. My only wish is that you gather the rest of Archaics. I am sure since you found me that it will not be hard.”

Seonghwa tapped on his temple with a grin. “I’m a tracker, Anx. I’m able to find even the most hidden allies with ease.”

“Is that your attribute? How interesting.”

Every demon had an attribute unlike anyone else in their kind. They were usually born with the ability, and could master it within their first year of becoming a demon.

“It works well for this line of work I’ve got myself into.” Seonghwa stated, standing from his seated position and walking towards San. “Anx, it was a pleasure formally meeting you.” He held his hand out, which the Archaic hesitantly shook.

“If you have done your research, what is my attribute?” San asked suddenly with a large, mischievous smile.

“Tele-“

Suddenly, they weren’t in the Costa Rican chapel anymore. Instead, they were in an alleyway bordering the streets in Chicago, accompanied by rain and a surprising amount of humidity.

Seonghwa glanced around them, letting go of San’s hand to figure out where the hell they were. “-portation.”

San slipped inside an old, dilapidated auto garage beside their teleportation destination, which garage was open just wide enough for a demon as skinny as himself to squeeze through.

This was a safe house he had built to stash some extra clothes for a situation like this. He quickly changed from his polo uniform to some ripped black jeans paired with a white t-shirt. Above the shirt went a nice leather jacket, something he treasured since he obtained back in the seventies.

Once San slithered out of the garage, he saw Seonghwa with his palm pressed on the ground, rain drenching him as he concentrated.

“He’s not far. My comrade left a marker for me to find maybe ten blocks down from here.” Seonghwa said, his hand glowing as he honed in on his attribute’s specialty.

“That’s a pretty nifty power you got. I bet you’re able to GPS your way around this city with ease.” San teased.

“Actually, no. Unfortunately, I am quite terrible at navigating.” Seonghwa admitted, lifting his palm away from the puddle he had set it in and shook off the access water. “As horrible as I am, I always have someone to help me with my jobs. They know their way around.”

How unfortunate indeed, San said to himself, brushing the access dust off of his jacket.

“Come on.”

San followed the tracker, even though he could most likely teleport there with ease. He didn’t want to upset the fellow or leave him alone on such a horrible night.


End file.
